


when feeling out of sight

by imperial_queen



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alistair and the Templar Armour, Cullen and Chess, Varric and his Stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 23:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12352344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperial_queen/pseuds/imperial_queen
Summary: A little look at Cullen, Alistair and Varric when they're not as noticed as usual. Or fangirling over fashion in Alistair's case.





	when feeling out of sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SecondStarOnTheLeft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/gifts).



> Niamh made a comment about these three blokes. 
> 
> I wrote a fic for her because you know she deserves a birthday present. And she's my fanfiction hero. So I really should have done this sooner. HAPPY BIRTHDAY NIAMH! Breith lá Sona Duit! (I hope that's right!)
> 
> And the title comes from Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Who knew GCSE English would be useful?

The Warden listened to Alistair ramble, a small smile on her face as he babbled about templar uniforms and exactly why they were the snazziest armour in all of Thedas. She didn’t really care what her armour looked like, as long as it protected her, but Alistair’s enthusiasm for templar armour was infectious, to a certain point. 

“Alistair, you do realise that much as I love listening to you talk about these things, I stopped understanding a word you said after the monologue on the comfort and style. I don’t know anything about cloth types and the way it matches with the armour or anything,” she held up a hand so Alistair wouldn’t interrupt her interruption of his little speech, “so if you want a proper conversation, you should probably talk to Leliana. If you just want to enthuse about the armour, I am happy to listen as long as you understand why I’m not really contributing. And I promise I’m not laughing at you, you’re just adorable when you’re this enthusiastic.” Objective achieved, the elf settled in to watch as Alistair went bright red, stammering for a few minutes before grabbing the templar helmet from the ground and explaining both why he liked it, and how he thought it could be improved. 

“Stay here, I’ll go get us some mystery stew,” she said, getting up and heading towards the campfire. Leliana noticed her and was standing with two bowls when she arrived at the big cooking pot. There was a knowing smile on the bard’s face, “He knows far more than he lets on. And he makes you happy. That is what’s important,” the Orlesian said quietly as the Warden put healthy, Grey Warden-sized portions of mystery stew into the bowls. “I know, but he doesn’t know that he’s good enough to lead, that he can learn. I want to help him. I want to be with him every step of his way for the rest of our lives.” Leliana nodded and pushed the Warden back towards Alistair, and with a whispered “Tell him!” she gave the Wardens the privacy to talk, although the Warden knew that Alistair would get interrogated about his fashion knowledge when the bard next had the opportunity. 

“Here you go. Now you were telling me about how templars use their shields differently than normal soldiers in fights.” 

* * *

 

Hawke was sat as unobtrusively as possible at the back of the Hanged Man, hoping Varric wouldn’t notice her. If he noticed her, he’d change how he told the story, and she actually wanted to hear how he told them to other people for herself for a change. So she was wearing clothes she hoped Varric had never seen before, and a cloak with a hood, as well as making an effort to drink something other than her normal choice (that was a mistake) and sit differently. All so Varric wouldn’t notice her. Fenris thought she was being ridiculous but had lent her his most worn cloak anyway, so she looked like an ordinary traveller just passing through Kirkwall, listening to the random dwarf telling stories in the pub. Maker, this had better work. 

Varric was stood by the fire, the Hanged Man had gone silent and people were settling in with new drinks. It seemed like everyone there was waiting eagerly for the next story. All the people passing through, just wanting a cheap place to stay seemed baffled by what was happening until the whisper about the story went around the pub. Then the travellers looked mildly interested, and they began to pay attention to Varric. 

The dwarf waited until everyone had gone silent. Then he waited some more. He waited until every single person in the room was holding their breath in anticipation. And then he wove his tale. A tale of adventure, revenge, death, grief and a hundred other things, all woven together. Hawke listened as Varric combined the adventures they’d had and that Varric had heard about, combined them in ways that created more tension, added conversations, and linked them together, with a sinister threat at the end, one Hawke knew was his own invention, one which left the listeners wanting more, but no amount of free drinks would persuade Varric to tell more of the story than he wanted, than he had prepared. And Hawke knew it was prepared, but it sounded so much as if he had just invented them all off the top of his head. 

Hawke shook her head and quickly, quietly slipped out of the Hanged Man, ready to go home and think this through,. And she prayed that he hadn’t seen her, or changed how he told the story if he had noticed her. Although a smirk he'd aimed in her direction did make her wonder if she would get teased about this.   


* * *

 

The Inquisitor was enjoying the tranquility of the gardens at Skyhold, hidden from view by pillars and plants. She just wanted to relax, to avoid the pressure and stress of being Inquisitor and Herald for a few minutes. There was Cullen, probably come to drag her to the War Room to make more decisions affecting everyone in Thedas, it made her feel sick. She made herself as small, as unnoticeable as possible, trying to avoid being seen, to be left alone was all she wanted. 

But Cullen didn’t seem to be looking for her. He was grabbing a small table from the pavilion, it seemed, and setting up a chess set. At least that’s what it looked like from this distance. But Cullen didn’t seem to be waiting for an opponent, he was just setting up the pieces. And now he was looking at the piece of parchment he was holding. 

Moving as quietly as possible, the Inquisitor shifted around in the bushes, trying to get a better view of what he was doing without being noticed. With nobody else in the garden, it would be much easier for Cullen to hear any movements she made, but he seemed to absorbed with the chessboard to pay attention to her. 

From her new position, stood up, partly hidden by the pillar, and reasonably sure that she could duck completely behind it before he saw her if he turned around, she watched as Cullen walked around the chessboard and compared it to the second page of his parchment. Then he moved one of the black pieces, she couldn’t see which, and then he started walking around the board again, clearly thinking. 

He made several moves for white, undoing each of them. It was almost like he was playing himself and yet he didn’t seem the type to challenge himself to a game of chess. She was also puzzled by the parchment he’d brought with him, he kept looking at them, one after the other, and then looking back at the board. 

He seemed to have settled on a move for white, placing it with a click that echoed throughout the quiet garden, and then he went and stood at the opposite side of the board, and made what seemed to be several moves for black, without ever completing any of them. He was muttering to himself as well, to quietly for her to hear, as he took one of the pieces of parchment, wrote something down quickly, and then put the chess set away and left the garden quickly, looking over his shoulder and around him as if he were expecting someone to be watching, or to come and tell him off for not being in his office. 

The door clicked shut, and the Inquisitor left her hiding place, picking up one of the chess pieces from where Cullen had put it. She had an idea. 


End file.
